


Beg For It

by Sapphic_Futurist



Series: Sapph's Anti-Soulmate Kinktober Fills 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Soulmate Kinktober 2020, Begging, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dark, Disfigurement, Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphic_Futurist/pseuds/Sapphic_Futurist
Summary: Click.“Bucky,” Tony said gently, fingers clenching and releasing around the belt keeping his wrists secure. “Bucky? Are you alright?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Sapph's Anti-Soulmate Kinktober Fills 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968322
Comments: 23
Kudos: 130
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020





	Beg For It

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 12  
> Prompt: Fisting + Begging
> 
> I tried to find a nice balance between appropriately tagging this and not overtagging to avoid giving away the story. If you're concerned about the contents of this story, feel free to chat me up on Discord or Tumblr. If you think there needs to be additional tags, please let me know. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Sorry, not sorry.

“Mm, that feels nice.” Tony was all but purring as Bucky worked his metal thumb into the divot between his shoulder blades, rubbing and massaging at the tense muscles. “That feels _really_ nice.”

The sun was warm on his skin and Tony rutted against the thick thigh between his legs, splayed out over Bucky’s chest in an oversized lounge chair. The summer was rapidly dissolving into autumn but today was one of the unusually warm days where heat lingered in the air, even as the sun dropped below the treeline. Tony was curled in Bucky’s arms, marvelling at how the chair managed to hold their weight and considering the potential risk of increasing their physical activity on such precarious plastic.

“You’re being very bad,” Bucky’s breath tickled his ear and Tony shivered at the sexy rumbling of his voice. “What would our friends say?”

 _Our friends_.

Sometimes Tony still couldn’t believe it. Despite the odds stacked against them, the team had come a long way since the disaster in Germany, and though there were still days where Tony thought he might blink and everything would disappear, that feeling was fading with time.

The team had been back together for months and things were good. Better than good. If they’d been friendly and cordial before, they were a family now, expanding and welcoming new members into their ranks.

Tony wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

And he never anticipated falling for the Winter Soldier.

Tony nuzzled closer to Bucky’s chest, smiling into the expanse of smooth skin scattered with fine, dark hair. “That I’m corrupting you and your straight-laced forties sensibilities?”

Bucky chuckled, pressing his lips into the soft spot below Tony’s ear as he trailed his right hand up and under the bottom of Tony’s shirt to rub his lower back. The pressure was perfect and it was a miracle Tony wasn’t melting into a puddle and sliding directly into the pool.

“No, I think you’re mistakin’ me for Steve.”

“Please don’t talk about Cap when you’re feeling me up,” Tony sniffed, wrinkling his nose and arching forward as both of Bucky’s hands started working on his back.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing? Feelin’ you up?” The pressure of Bucky’s thumb didn’t let up against the knot in his shoulders but his other hand dipped down into the waistband of Tony’s swim trunks and fluttered along the cleft of his ass. Tony let out an exaggerated moan and humped him shamelessly, feeling the grin spread across Bucky’s lip as he did.

This was perfect. This is exactly what he’d had in mind when Tony had suggested this vacation in the first place. This was—

“Oh, come on! Are you two serious right now?”

Everything came crashing down and Tony forced out a laboured sigh as Steve stepped out onto the deck, the hand he was holding up to shield his eyes from the sun coming down over his face to protect his innocence instead.

Bucky barked a laugh. “Coulda knocked, punk.”

“This is a shared space, Buck. You don’t knock when you’re going _outside_ because that’s not a reasonable place to expect to see your best friend feeling up your—”

“What do you want Steve? Obviously, we’re busy here, and you can drop the scandalized virgin act, Captain Chastity.” Even though Bucky was tugging his hand free from Tony’s swim trunks, Tony refused to extricate himself from Bucky’s arms, glaring up at Steve over the top of his sunglasses and spitefully curling in closer. “We both know you’re a freak in the sheets.”

“Aw, Tony, don’t start,” Bucky groaned, swatting at his hip.

“I mean, you could always come over here and join us.” He hesitated, taking in the twin horrified expressions that passed between Steve and Bucky. Right on cue, a thick blush spreading across Steve’s face and Tony burst into giddy laughter. 

Steve cleared his throat, glancing away, and ploughed past the remark. “I was coming to see if you’re in for dinner. Nat and Bruce are going into the city to catch a movie but the rest of us are heading over to the diner up the street.”

Tony and Bucky exchanged a look. The sizzle of desire behind Bucky’s grey-green eyes made Tony swallow and bite down on the inside of his cheek. Dinner be damned.

“What do you say, peaches. You hungry?” Tony asked sweetly, giving Bucky’s mouth a long, measured look.

Clouded, longing eyes met his. “Tony—”

“You know what, I’m just going to take that as a no,” Steve cut in, promptly turning back towards the door. “Don’t fuck on the deck. And we’re having a team meeting about appropriate public displays of affection later.”

“That could be a lot kinkier than you expect, Steve!” Tony called after him as Bucky squeezed the breath out of him, arms tight around his waist as he shook with quiet laughter.

Tony could practically see the dirty thoughts rattling around in Bucky’s head, itching to be set free.

“You need to lay off him,” Bucky warned when Steve was out of earshot. “You’re gonna give him an aneurysm.”

“Hm, maybe you should teach me a lesson? So, I won't forget next time?” That little comment earned him a thousand-watt smile and a sharp thrust of Bucky’s hips up against the thigh Tony had wedged between his legs. 

It was no wonder that teasing Steve had resulted in an almost Pavlovian response for sex and Bucky should really have known better by now.

Grumbling under his breath about unruly billionaires, Bucky pushed out of his chair, manhandling Tony’s weight along with his own and toppled him up and over his shoulder. Tony barked out a sharp laugh.

From that vantage point, he could take advantage of the glorious slope of Bucky’s ass in his jeans and he did, giving it a sharp smack before threading his fingers through Bucky’s belt loops. The blood his body warred between the dizziness in his head and the aching throb of his cock between his legs. 

“At least wait until everyone’s left the house, babe.”

But Bucky had a singular focus and he was already halfway up the stairs before someone pointedly slammed the door below.

Tony laughing was cut off by a moan when Bucky tossed him down on the bed, covering him with his body and sealing their mouths together in a kiss that took his breath away. Even after all this time, Bucky could still manage to suck the very air from his lungs with a glance or a quick press of his lips, and Tony gasped into his mouth, winding closer. 

When Bucky sat back and started tugging at his clothes Tony slung an arm behind his head and took in the sight. Bucky was always a flurry of graceful movements, a dance between the deadly elegance of the Winter Soldier partnered with the sheer power of his serum-enhanced body. Just watching him move was enough to get Tony worked up, need sparking at the base of his spine and spreading outward as he scrambled to sit up and help, reaching for Bucky’s belt and tugging it away.

“You want to try again today, sweet thing?” Bucky husked against his chest, sucking one of Tony’s nipples into his mouth and biting down lightly, holding back more pressure until Tony’s body was arching upwards in pursuit of the sensation.

“You want to? You sure?”

Bucky bit down again, harder, and Tony smirked, rolling his hips up against the soft curve of Bucky’s stomach. “Fuck yes I’m sure!”

Tony shivered, eager. They’d been working up to it for weeks; Bucky methodically stretching Tony’s ass with his fingers and toys, patiently massaging him open with his massive hands. A few times they’d gotten close, with Bucky four fingers deep, knuckles digging into that perfect spot until Tony was gasping and rutting blindly against the sheets.

But Tony had developed a nasty habit of pitching forward and spouting off like a teenager before Bucky could tuck in his thumb and get his fist anywhere near him, let alone inside of him.

Just the thought of Bucky’s entire hand in his ass, buried as far as it would go, had his insides squirming again, and he wiggled impatiently as Bucky clothes tangled around his thighs.

Adventures in fisting had led to some pretty sublime orgasms and Bucky had long since learned every twist and turn that had Tony coming like a rocket. His traitorous body chased pleasure like it might be the last orgasm on earth and Bucky never denied him, but this time Tony was going for the gold.

“Should stick a cock ring on ya,” Bucky muttered, shoving Tony back down onto his back and yanking off his swim shorts, leaving him bare and flushed against the cool sheets. “Then we’d get you there.”

“Shit, you’re a genius!” Bucky’s fingers were already prodding at his rim, pushing and teasing but not sliding in dry and Tony licked his lips, body lighting up with sensation. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re a greedy, whiny bastard who never waits for anything?”

“Oh, is that right?” Tony snarked, letting his legs drop open even further in a proud, blatant display. “So when it’s something _I_ want, it’s ‘whining,’ but when it’s something _you_ want me to do, it’s ‘beg me for it, Tony, you do it so pretty, doll’?”

Bucky didn’t even bother with a response, just smirked at Tony’s breathy tone as he shoved off the bed to kick his pants off.

All the teasing grinded to a halt.

Covering Tony’s naked body with his own, Bucky dropped just enough of his weight for Tony to feel the pressure and started to rut up against him, sliding the length of his cock into the narrow hollow of Tony’s hip. A wet trail of precome shimmered on his skin and with a mischievous look, Tony reached down to swipe his thumb through the beads of fluid and brought them to his mouth. Bucky’s eyes darkened again, his eyes following Tony’s thumb between his lips.

It was thrilling, watching the power he could have over such a formidable man; the way Bucky was willing to loosen up on the death grip he held on his control and give over. 

It had taken months to get Bucky into bed in the first place and not without good reason. Though Shuri had confirmed that, to the best of her knowledge, she had removed all traces of the programming from Bucky’s mind, Bucky was still horrified that the Winter Soldier could be lurking somewhere, dormant inside him.

He’d created a strict regimen of what was and was not permitted, particularly in the bedroom, releasing the margins of his self-restraint slowly over the past few months to bring them where they were today.

It’d been almost a year and Tony trusted Bucky implicitly, despite Bucky’s own doubts.

Tony often reminded himself Bucky was entitled to those doubts, especially with the nights he still woke screaming with an ocean of red soaking his vision. For Bucky, a year was a drop in the proverbial bucket and fear still lingered deep in the hollow of his bones.

So Tony would be patient. Mostly. “Are you going to gawk at me, or put those hands to use, soldier?”

Bucky twisted one of his nipples, flashing a line of white teeth. “Just waiting on the magic word, doll.”

Fair was fair, Tony thought as he reached between their bodies to give Bucky’s cock a firm stroke. Bucky was hot and twitching in Tony’s fist, and for a minute Tony wanted to forgo the fisting entirely. It would be easier just to flip Bucky over and trade lazy afternoon blowjobs, teasing and moaning until they were both panting and satisfied.

Except Bucky was looking at him like he wanted to devour him whole and his body sang with arousal.

Tony dropped his gaze to gaze up at Bucky through his lashes. “ _Please_?”

“Christ,” Bucky grunted, hips jerking involuntarily into Tony’s fist before he gained control over himself and yanked Tony’s hand away. Leaning across the bed to retrieve his belt, Bucky drew Tony’s wrists up to the headboard and looped the belt around them in a brisk and effective knot.

Tony smirked, yanking against the restraints. “If you think this is going to stop me from coming too soon, you’d be wrong.”

“I think it’ll keep you from squirmin’ around and distractin’ me.” Bucky smacked him on the hip before he planted a hand on the inside of each thigh and _spread_. The heat in his gaze sent a tsunami of pleasure washing over Tony’s body and his cock jerked valiantly against his stomach, doing it’s best to draw all of Bucky’s attention.

Bucky was a shade smarter than that, ignoring Tony’s cock in favour of lifting his hips and shoving a pillow underneath them to expose his hole.

“Damn, that sight will never get old,” Bucky said, stuffing his thumb into his mouth to wet the tip before dragging it across Tony’s asshole in a deliberate tease.

Tony moaned, maybe a little louder than necessary, and shifted his hips up towards the motion before Bucky’s metal hand could clamp down on his thigh again to hold him still. Ducking his head, Bucky dove in, licking a hot strip across the entrance to Tony’s body and wasting no time prodding at him with his tongue, seeking— _demanding_ —that Tony’s body open for him.

“No don’t—” Tony’s desperate plea was lost in a choked whine as Bucky sucked on the delicate circle of his rim, the obscene smack of his lips reverberating through the room. Liquid fire raced through his body as Bucky licked into him, wetting him and smearing the moisture with every lap, sloppy and _perfect_. “Bucky please! Please, please, please,” Tony begged mindlessly, twisting his wrists against the restraints as another pulse of pleasure had his balls drawing up and threatening to spill.

“Please what, darlin’,” Bucky purred into his ass, wiggling the tip of his tongue inside him and drawing another gasp from Tony’s mouth.

“Please don’t! I’ll come. You know I will, you bastard, don’t—ah, _fuck_.”

One of Bucky’s cool metal fingers pressed against him, already slick, because somewhere through the fog of need Tony vaguely remembered the _snick_ of the lube, and Tony shoved down to welcome it. The contrast was maddening, all hot tongue and cool metal, as Bucky pushed in a finger Tony had built from scratch. If that wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing—

And Bucky never held out on him for long. After a crook of one digit, he was quickly adding a second and a third, curling and stretching Tony’s rim until it relented. His muscles start to quiver, sucking and rippling around Bucky’s fingers in a feeble attempt to pull him in deeper and never let him go.

“You’re so greedy for it,” Bucky mused with a satisfied hum. His mouth ghosted along the inside of Tony’s thigh before pulling back.

For a second, everything stopped and Tony squirmed again, seeking friction, seeking any kind of stimulation at all. He forced his eyes open to glare down at Bucky, but his mouth went dry when he caught sight of Bucky’s wrecked face looking up at him from between his knees. His hair was twisted back into a bun and his scruff was smeared with spit. But it was his eyes that left a thick coating of emotion trapped in his throat.

Gazing back at Tony were the greyest, deepest eyes he’d ever laid eyes on. Like Tony was looking into time itself, Bucky’s eyes were an ever-expanding depth of pleasure he could lose himself in.

“Bucky,” Tony started with desperation transparent in his voice, breaking off when Bucky gave him a slight twist of his lips and a raised eyebrow that always signaled the same request. “James,” Tony amended, “James please.” 

“Please, what, Tony?”

“Fuck me,” Tony begged, closing his eyes again and tipping his head back towards the mattress, lengthening his spine and showing off the long lines of his throat. “Come on, soldier, give it to me.”

It must’ve been enough, because Bucky crooked his fingers again and there was a renewed dribble of lube dripped on his balls on a torturous trail towards his ass. “I am fucking you.”

Tony groaned, twisting into the slick glide. “Please fuck me better. Fuck me on your goddamn gorgeous metal fingers until you can get the whole hand in me. Come on.”

Bucky rewarded him with the slightest crook of his fingers, then stopped again.

It wasn’t hard to determine what Bucky wanted. It was the same thing he always wanted; Tony, desperate and half-mad with need, begging and pleading for it as if he’d almost been reduced to his most basic instincts.

Bucky wanted to be _needed_ and he loved to hear Tony talk, lived for it.

“Come on,” Tony panted, nudging one of his knees against the outside of Bucky’s forearm where his grip had relaxed. Instantly, the hand not otherwise occupied in his ass pushed down again to keep him still. “Give it to me. You need it as much as I do. I can take it, James, I can. Fuck me with your whole fucking fist. Fill me up just right, baby—oh, Christ, yeah, come on. You fuck me so good. So fucking good.”

Somewhere lost in the litany of goading and praise, Bucky’s fingers were moving again. He was so careful, the plates pressed firmly together to avoid catching on delicate skin, working his fingers into the knuckle.

“Yeah, that’s it. Give me the thumb too, I’m ready.” Tony tried to twist forward and get a look at where Bucky was buried inside him, but his unruly hair was in the way, blocking the action. “You know you want it.”

“Relax,” Bucky said, barely more than a whisper and though there was an odd note in his voice, Bucky leaned forward to wrap his lips around the tip of Tony’s cock. With the lightest suction imaginable, he swiped a delicate lick over the head and Tony’s thighs shook.

“Fuck, you fucking sadist!” Tony jolted up into the delicious wet heat, going nowhere. His body was desperate for release. He wanted to scream, the orgasm hovering just out of reach as Bucky backed off and started teasing along the edge of his rim with his thumb.

This was it; they were going to get there. He was going to have this.

“Do it. Just fucking do it,” Tony pressed, “you want it, soldier, so just take it. Give it to me.”

“Tony—”

“Do it!” Tony gasped, shoving back again. If Bucky kept teasing him, he was going to explode. Implode. Cease to exist and depart into some unknown astral plane and never recover. “Jesus fuck, James. Just take it, soldier, come on. Come on, you know you want it. You’re as desperate for it as I am, so just _take it_.”

 _Click_.

Bucky stopped moving, the crook of his fingers came to a halt. Everything went silent and he even stopped breathing.

Tony pried his eyes open, swimming through the haze of arousal until he could focus on Bucky’s face and a knot of dread unfurled in his stomach, chasing away every last thread of pleasure in an instant. Transfixed over his shoulder, Bucky’s eyes were flat and cold. His face was emotionless and his body was drawn taut like a bowstring ready to snap.

“Bucky,” Tony said gently, fingers clenching and releasing around the belt keeping his wrists secure. “Bucky? Are you alright?”

Grey-green eyes snapped down to his own. “Готовы соответствовать.”

“Shit,” Tony held himself as still as he could, the sensation slowly draining out of his fingers where they gripped the leather. “You’re okay. You’re safe and no one’s going to hurt you. Let me help you—”

“Ты выбрал рискованную игру, проводник. Похоже, теперь все под контролем я.”

Tony watched, helpless, failing to understand the Russian as the Winter Soldier’s eyes trailed over his body to where his fingers were still buried inside him. The flesh hand came away from his thigh, reaching down between their bodies to curl around the Soldier’s cock and stroke.

A smear of pleasure appeared on his haughty features and his breathing hitched.

“James—”

“Тихий,” the Soldier snapped, jerking himself roughly, “В конце концов, мы посмотрим, сколько вы сможете выдержать.”

The fingers inside him crooked again, a vicious rendition of the way Bucky had been stroking him minutes ago. Without care, the Soldier started to thrust in and out, tugging at Tony’s rim as the plates of his hand started to ripple and shift. Tony drew a harsh breath when the plates dragged against him, tearing and slicing through skin with each backstroke and he kicked out, wildly.

“Stop! James please, please don’t. FRI—”

The Soldier launched forward, a hand darting out to cover Tony’s mouth as he glared into his wide eyes. There was nothing there. Nothing left of the James Barnes he knew, just the automaton who still lived deep inside him, vicious and relentless in the pursuit of his mission.

A mission Tony had given him.

The Soldier’s thumb breached him and suddenly his entire fist was forcing itself inside Tony’s body. Pain flared to life across every nerve ending and all his thoughts fled, narrowing to the searing burn between his legs. The plates shifted again, catching and cutting him from the inside as the Soldier worked his fist deeper, twisting.

Tony felt like he was being ripped in two and he struggled against his restraints, hearing racing in his chest.

It was useless. As the Soldier’s fist picked up speed tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He yanked at the belt again, shoulders burning as he wrenched against the headboard and went nowhere. The air thinned and panic set in, mixing with the agony low in his stomach.

 _Stop, stop, stop_.

He was completely at the mercy of the Winter Soldier.

Tony drew in a sharp breath through his nose and screamed.

* * *

When Tony swam back into consciousness there were a pair of hands clasped on either side of his face. He jerked away, scrambling backwards on the bed, one hand automatically clenching around the sheet that had been thrown over his naked body.

His fingers tangled in the fabric, numb and slow to respond. His nails were blue and it was impossible to know how long he’d been restrained, but his wrists were throbbing as the blood rushed back to his arms.

“Tony, Tony, hey, it’s okay,” said a soft voice.

 _Rhodey._ His face came into focus, grim and shadowed.

The calmness he offered was shot through with tension and Tony groaned, cataloguing the fiery burn that was once his ass and the steady thrum of pain through a series of new bruises. Every inch of his body ached and it was hard to tell where the depravity had ended.

Chancing a look at the parts of himself visible above the sheet, Tony took in the dark circles forming around his wrists, blurred between deep welts from the belt. A smattering of fingerprints travelled from his forearm to his biceps. “Fuck.”

“Does anyone have eyes on Rogers?” Rhodey asked, jerking his head over his shoulder towards the door. Natasha and Clint were crowded behind him in the doorway. 

Clint turned away, masking his expression as Natasha paled, the green of her eyes contrasting ominously against the whiteness of her cheeks. “Jim—”

“Don’t. Just, don’t. Find out where he went. We’re bringing Barnes in and this time we’re not fucking it up.”

“What?” Tony demanded, clenching the sheet tighter and quickly scanning the floor for his clothes. He made to collect them, wincing as he shifted sideways to the edge of the bed, but Rhodey’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Everything was moving too slowly, like his brain was draining through a sieve, and Tony dragged his eyes up again, confused.

“Tony, stop. Hang on.” Tony winced away from Rhodey’s touch and the hand on his shoulder disappeared, curling into a fist at Rhodey’s side. “You need medical attention.”

“Fuck that,” Tony forced himself off the bed and collected the abandoned swim trunks. “What the hell do you mean ‘ _bring Barnes in_?’ This isn’t his fault.”

“Isn’t his fault! Tony—”

“You’re bleeding,” Clint pointed out, with a nod towards Tony’s waist. Sure enough, a trickling of blood was spreading down the back of one thigh, dripping onto the white carpet and already staining through the back of his swimsuit.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony forced out through gritted teeth, body screaming against every step as he walked carefully over to the suitcase in the corner to pull out fresh clothing. The three sets of eyes on his back were unsettling and Tony tried to ignore the silent judgement.

This wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He knew that. Every logical, rational fibre of his being knew that the second Bucky had started speaking in Russian, there was nothing left of the man that he loved. It wasn’t Bucky.

_James Barnes had not hurt him._

“Who are you trying to convince, Tones?” Rhodey asked softly, and Tony realized he’d been speaking aloud. 

Tugging a shirt over his head, he shot Rhodey a glare. “Don’t. He didn’t mean to. It was the programming, something triggered him. He’d never—”

“CCTV picked them up heading back upstate,” Natasha said, tapping on a tablet that had appeared in her hands. “They can’t be headed back to the Compound, can they?”

“Call the police,” Rhodey said. “Call the WSC. Hell, call Pierce for all I care.”

“Stop!” Tony whirled around with a pair of jeans his body was already protesting against clenched in both hands. “Enough. No one’s calling anyone. No one’s bringing anyone in. This is all a huge misunderstanding—”

“We heard his call come in, Tony,” Clint said, with no room for error and voice devoid of his regular humour. There was a hard line behind his eyes and Tony wanted to curl into the floor. He wanted to turn back the clock and avoid all of this entirely. He wanted to _run_. “Bucky told Steve that he’d forced you. That he’d—”

“It’s not true. It’s fucking not. Now if I know that idiot, and I think by now I can safely assume that I do, he’s going to do something stupid. Like cryostasis-levels of stupid. So, I’m going to the Compound with or without you to knock some sense into him. Are you going to help me, or not?”

Rhodey looked like he might explode out of his braces, his hands clenching down so hard on the metal wrapped around his waist that Tony could almost hear it whining. Through gritted teeth he bit out an affirmative and considerately turned his back while Tony shucked his swim trunks.

Doing his best to hold back a hiss of pain, Tony mopped up the mess between his thighs—it was more than blood dripping down his legs, now—with tissues from the bedside table, and forced his disoriented legs into a pair of sweatpants.

“You’re driving.”

Natasha gave Clint a shove towards the door. “We’re coming with you.”

“Fine.”

Rhodey drove with his fingers clenched so tight around the wheel he could have wrenched it from the steering column at any moment. He’d tried to speak again with thick waves of anger underlining his voice but Tony had cut him off and the car had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

He couldn’t get comfortable, shifting in his seat around the sensation of needles stabbing into him from the inside, forcing themselves deeper into his skin with every miniscule motion. Adrenaline coursed through him in a strange mixture of fear and anticipation for what he might find by the time they reached the Compound.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to give the shame and humiliation the time of day. He’d lose his nerve.

Of course, Bucky would have said that he’d forced Tony and maybe any sane person would argue that he had. But Bucky wasn’t the Winter Soldier. It wasn’t a switch that let out some secret dark side Bucky was trying to keep under wraps. It was a distinct series of programming to create something more sinister stored deep inside.

If anything, the Winter Soldier was more similar to JARVIS or FRIDAY than he was to James Barnes. Everything in Tony wanted to reject the idea, screaming that he was wrong.

 _He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you._ The words circled in his brain like vultures, waiting to prey on any moment of weakness and Tony steeled himself against them. Bucky had never and would never hurt him.

It hadn’t been Bucky.

Tony almost jumped out of his skin, letting out a hiss as long, thin fingers rested over his own. His eyes flicked down to his lap where he realized he was shaking, his hands clasped together on one thigh and trembling violently.

Natasha gave him an unreadable expression when he met her eye and he looked quickly away, focusing on something out the window. Her reflection stared back at him against the dark glass and her hand stayed wrapped around Tony’s for the rest of the drive.

By the time they reached the Compound it was dark and the lights from the facility cut through the blackness in ominous slices. It was almost ridiculous to think that, because on any other night the Compound felt like a warm, welcoming home; a place that Tony and Bucky had made their life together.

He already knew where he’d find Bucky and anxiety played along his nerves like off-tune piano keys. He didn’t want to see Bucky like this, didn’t want Bucky to see _him_ like this but with Natasha’s firm grip on his forearm, Tony soldiered on.

Steve was waiting for them outside the containment room which was, more accurately, an entire floor buried at the deepest level of the Compound.

It had laid empty for over a year, something Bucky had insisted on when he’d returned to the US. Something Tony had repeatedly stated was unnecessary, reminding Bucky that it was dehumanizing and too akin to what he’d experienced with HYDRA to justify.

 _Whatever you need to do to subdue me_ , Bucky had said, as if it had meant nothing at all. As if _he_ were nothing at all.

Eventually Tony had agreed and now he knew every line of code by heart: how the restraints fit together and how the cameras would telegraph movement to engage if they identified a threat.

Tony swallowed and forced himself to meet Steve’s eye. He looked ready for a fight with his hands carefully held in place on his hips, his entire body acting as a placeholder for his shield. Just beyond him, Bucky would be in restraints, the unforgiving metal curled around his arms and torso and even clasped on either side of his head.

Just like the HYDRA Chair. It was nothing short of torture.

Tony bristled. “Move.”

“Tony, listen—”

“No. Fucking move, Rogers.” Tony took another step towards him but Steve stayed rooted to the spot. An entire cinema of emotions projected across his features and for a moment, Tony was back in 2016.

Had Steve ever truly started giving him the benefit of the doubt?

His mouth was set firm, as if he needed to make a choice and that choice wasn’t going to be Tony. As if Steve had any say in how things worked anymore, especially when it came to Bucky. As if it were still either, or, and things hadn’t changed exponentially in the last year.

There was still sadness, just like before, but—

“Bucky didn’t mean to—”

“Oh Christ, this again? Cap you can’t—” Rhodey’s mouth snapped shut when Tony shot him a fierce look. 

“You don’t think I know that?” Tony hissed, tugging his arm free from Natasha’s grasp to point a finger in Steve’s face. “He’s my fucking partner, Steve. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to help him make idiotic choices and pretend like it’s the two of you against the world anymore. I’m here. I’m a part of this—a hell of a lot more than you are.”

He hated the way his goddamn voice was shaking.

He hated the way that Steve’s face waffled between bewilderment and disbelief as if he wasn’t sure what to think but would never believe Tony because this was Steve fucking Rogers and when had Tony even earned his fair share of Steve’s trust?

Steve’s eyes mapped the marks on his body and pity etched across his features, but he didn’t answer.

Tony was going to hit him.

Tony was going to fall apart.

“Move.”

Steve stayed.

His eyes flickered between the three silent teammates behind Tony, looking for confirmation and the patience Tony’d been holding onto like a life-preserver snapped.

“FRIDAY, give me the fucking audio.”

“FRIDAY, don’t.” Steve cut in and Tony saw red, cocking his hands into fists at his side. Rhodey slapped a hand down on his shoulder as if he meant to hold him back and Tony winced, a flare of pain radiating down through his body, lighting up where the bruising was deepest along his ribs and down to the piercing ache in his ass.

“Don’t touch me,” He snarled, beyond caring when Rhodey’s eyes went almost comically wide. “Give me the audio or get me a goddamn suit, FRIDAY, now.”

Tony knew the moment the audio connected, not because Bucky was speaking, but because he could hear the heavy, gasping breaths he was taking from inside the containment chamber. It was so similar to Tony’s own panicked breathing, small hitches of breath as Bucky tried to breath his way out of the anxiety.

How many times had he held Bucky through that exact same pattern? Pressing his forehead against the arc reactor and whispering calming reassurances over and over again while he peppered kisses into unruly hair?

He wanted to wrap his arms around Bucky and keep him safe from the world.

He never wanted Bucky to touch him again.

“What are you doing?” Tony said softly, eyes fixed on the door over Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t do this.”

Bucky didn’t answer but the audio picked up the choked off moan he tried to stifle.

“Bucky, please. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. You don’t need to be in there.” Tears flooded his vision and for a minute Steve faltered, his posture dropping out of battle stance and it was just Steve Rogers again, a man desperate to protect his friend. A man realizing two minutes too late that he and Tony could be, should be, allies this time around. Tony ignored him. “I’m okay. I am—I swear—please let me in.”

“Tony.” Natasha stepped up beside him and Tony gave her a pleading look. “James. I know it’s awful but it’s not your fault. It’s not. Nobody blames you.”

The look on Rhodey’s face said otherwise but Tony ignored him.

“Ты знаешь, что я сделал, Наталья? А ты знаешь?” The Russian was thick and lined with emotion. It was a pointless attempt to shield himself because Tony had grabbed his watch off the side table before they’d left for the Compound and the translation scrawled across its face. 

_Do you know what I’ve done, Natalia? Do you?_

Natasha kept her eyes fixed on Tony’s. “I know what the Soldier did.”

“У меня есть его воспоминания. Он я. Мы одинаковы.”

“He’s not!” Tony’s voice jumped a few decibels and this time he forced his way past Steve’s devastated slump, slamming his fist against the containment door as if it might go anywhere without his own approval or FRIDAY’s release protocols. “He’s fucking not you, don’t say that!”

Tony choked on a sob, rage fueling the fire in his belly when Bucky doesn’t reply.

“Open the fucking door, FRIDAY. Open it.”

“Boss, the Winter Soldier poses an extreme risk—”

“He’s not the goddamn— _fuck_ —open this door. _Now_.”

The release sprang free and the door slid open.

For a second, Tony stood there, shocked. He hadn’t anticipated that would work.

He hadn’t anticipated any of this and his feet felt like useless cadavers as he forced himself into the room. Everything in his body was shrieking for him to turn and run, and if Tony hadn’t spent the last decade overriding the basic instinct to flee, he might have.

“Lock it down.” The doors slammed shut behind him. “Cut the audio.”

On the opposite side of the wall could hear the dissent from his teammates, trying to get the audio back but Tony ignored them. In the centre of the room, Bucky was restrained in the chair. It was the only structure in the otherwise empty room encircled by reinforced metal and a series of assault mechanisms that could be tripped by movement or escape attempts.

The sight almost broke him.

Bucky refused to look up, his head hanging down from a limp neck and his hair covered his face. If it wasn’t for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest, Tony would have doubted he was even alive, but he was taking in air at unsteady intervals and Tony willed himself to limp closer.

To his surprise, Bucky had only engaged part of the restraint system. A series of bands wrapped around his bicep and forearm, holding the metal arm against the reinforced chair. His fingers twitched every few seconds, but he was otherwise still, with the rest of his body unsecure and slumped in a pitiful sprawl.

“When I thought about tying you up this isn’t what I pictured,” Tony croaked. “Bucky, please look at me.”

Bucky gave an incremental shake of his head. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I’m safe with you.” The words came out with a touch of hesitancy and Bucky huffed out a rejecting breath. He tried again. “I am. I know I am. James, please.”

“I was there. In there. With him,” Bucky bit out and Tony closed his eyes. “It’s never been like that before.”

A chill ran through him followed by the almost blessed numbness he remembered from Afghanistan. There was this moment, he’d learned, when his brain would eventually snap, switching to _off_ and resorting to back up power. It was as if his body no longer belonged to himself; he could step outside of his skin and walk right through Bucky if he chose to.

“I was there and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t do anything. I _let_ it happen.”

It’d be a futile effort to try and convince him otherwise, so Tony didn’t bother with placations. “This isn’t going to change anything so why are you doing to yourself?”

Bucky laughed, a disturbing sound, like metal squealing when a car wrapped around a pole on the freeway. Bucky was the tragedy Tony couldn’t look away from and he stumbled forward, dropping down just in front of him with a wince.

Every shift on his knees sent hot spears of anguish shooting up through his belly and when Bucky looked up, he was going to see it on his face. There was no use in hiding it. 

“This isn’t going to help anything. It’s definitely not going to help me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Finally, _finally_ , Bucky met his eye.

His cheeks were pale and tinged green, a haunting juxtaposition to the redness around his eyes. Those eyes that lit up whenever Tony walked into a room and tracked his movements in battle, protecting him amidst all the chaos. 

Bucky looked hollow and empty, almost in the way he had when the Soldier was activated but somehow worse. Worse because those were the eyes that were supposed to light up when Tony kissed him and dilated black when they were pressed up together. They were flat now.

The last time Bucky had looked at him like _this_ , he was apologizing for killing his mother.

Tony spared a glance at the metal hand again, resisting the urge to vomit at the sight of crusting blood still trapped between the plates.

Not now. Bucky needed him. If he didn’t get this right, he’d lose him and Tony couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t.

“I asked Steve to kill me and he wouldn’t,” Bucky’s toneless whisper ripped through Tony’s chest and left the scattered pieces of his heart on the floor between them.

“Not as dumb as he looks then,” Tony said, but Bucky’s scowl chased away the humour. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that. I love you.”

“I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” Tony said, all frantic heat as he gripped Bucky’s knees with both hands in an attempt to centre him, to ground them both. “You’re mine and we’re in this together, James.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to run. Fear was etched into every harsh line of his face and the way his body rebelled away from Tony’s touch was excruciating. On Bucky’s lap, Tony’s left hand shook and Bucky tracked the movement, lip curling back.

“Stop,” he said, “you shouldn’t touch me.”

“No.” Tony squeezed down harder. “You’re mine. We can get through this. We’ve gotten through worse.” It felt like a lie and tasted twice as vulgar.

“Tony—”

“Don’t do this,” he interrupted. He could feel Bucky fighting him and the desperation was breaking free, trickling into his voice. If Bucky left him—if he disappeared on him now—Tony swallowed down the bitterness coating his tongue. “I know you want to run again or put yourself back on ice and if you need to do that again or if Shuri thinks it’s best—just, let’s figure this out together. Please don’t make that decision now, not without me. Don’t do this to me, please.”

He wasn’t above begging and it wasn’t fair, Tony knew that. When Bucky didn’t respond, he aimed lower still. There was a fine line between where he stood and the border of cruelty and Tony reached out to kick it. 

“I’ll hate you if you leave me like this.”

Bucky gasped out a broken sound and his eyes shut tight with the smallest shake of his head.

Time slowed as they sat there, Tony taking in ragged breaths and waiting for whatever Bucky would say next. His resolve was thinning out, slipping through his fingers like shredded lace, delicate and broken. Everything was in shambles.

He hurt everywhere, deeply and all-consuming, across every inch of his body and into the furthest depths of his mind. Bucky hardly moved but tears started to slip out down his cheeks, dripping down onto his chest and Tony’s hands.

 _It wasn’t Bucky_ , he reminded himself, over and over until the shaky voice in his mind gained confidence. He could do this for Bucky.

“Touch me. I’m right here. I’m here, James,” he whispered, sliding his hands further up Bucky’s legs until they were on his hips. He pressed his face into Bucky’s knees then added, “FRIDAY, release the restraint.”

“No!”

The metal sprung back and Bucky clawed after the mechanism as if he might somehow draw it back out from the confines of the chair and bind himself in place. The tightness in his body sang with fear and betrayal but Tony didn’t let him go.

He pressed his forehead more firmly against him and waited. He waited and waited and waited until finally—

Bucky reached down and touched him, fingertips feather-light over his cheek. 

Tony flinched back from the touch with a gasp, body missing the memo. _He hurt you, he hurt you, he hurt you_. 

Bucky’s eyes rounded with despair. He sucked in an aborted breath. “You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not!”

“You are, and you should be!”

“I’m _not!_ ”

Everything that happened next was a whirlwind.

Bucky knocked Tony backwards as he launched an assault on his own body, and Tony landed with a hiss, ass connecting with the concrete. With his flesh hand, Bucky started prying his fingers into the crease where the shoulder joint met the metal socket and started to pull.

The sick squelching of tearing flesh made Tony want to vomit as Bucky grunted from the strain, gasping when the joint started to separate.

“Don’t!” Tony shouted, reaching for him again. “Bucky, stop! _Steve_ , get in here!”

The containment door flew open but in the short time before Steve was there, Bucky’s fingers worked between the socket and the metal arm and blood started pooling, then spraying forward in a stream from where metal departed from flesh. 

The socket had never been meant to be removed that way; the arm itself clipped into a mechanism that locked it into place so Bucky could switch out the various models Tony had created without any further intervention on the deep tissue, bone, or nervous system.

It would have been agony and it was a miracle Bucky wasn’t screaming as the socket tore and started to give way.

“Stop!” Tony screamed, over and over again, wrapping his hands around Bucky’s wrist and trying to subdue him. His strength was nothing by way of comparison.

Then Steve was there, prying Bucky’s hand away as he struggled and fought Steve off, working feverishly to get his grip back on the arm, his own shoulder, anything he could reach.

“I’ve got you, Buck,” Steve grunted under the strain. “Stop fighting me, I’ve got you.”

“Let go, Steve. Let go!” Bucky cocked his metal hand into a fist but the reaction was delayed from the connectivity damage and Steve batted it away with ease. “Get it off me! I want it off! Let me go!”

“Hold him still, damn it.”

Then Natasha’s hands were there too, bracing Bucky’s other shoulder and trying to keep him flush against the chair. Tony scrambled between them, prying off one of the plates near the upper arm with his fingernails even as the sharp metal bit into his skin. Tony ignored it, tugging pieces loose with hands coated in blood until he could shove his fingers inside.

He pressed down on the emergency release and the metal arm dropped to the ground with a clatter, smattered with red. 

Everything went quiet.

Tony slumped over Bucky’s chest, pressing his face into his neck as he let himself breath. Heavy, gasping breaths wafted over Bucky’s skin and Bucky started to tremble. As heaving sobs worked their way out of his chest, Tony clung to him, wrapping his arms around him and holding onto Bucky for dear life.

“I’ve got you. I have you.”

“I hate it,” Bucky moaned, his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “I hate it. How can you not hate it?”

What could he say?

Exhaustion overwhelmed Tony and he ignored the hands that were gently tugging at him, trying to pull him back, to inspect Bucky’s shoulder, or do any other number of things he didn’t care about.

All around them, their teammates were trying to help but Tony could only hold to Bucky and force himself to breathe.

The shock set in, cold and ruthless. Tony was bombarded by a series of memories; his parent’s faces as they died. Steve, bloody and battered in the hospital after he’d been dragged from the Potomac. The ring of bruises that had lingered around Natasha’s throat for days. The Winter Soldier’s fist driving towards his face and the feeling of cold, unforgiving metal tearing his insides to shreds. 

“I do,” Tony admitted finally, with an honesty that damn near killed him. Tony swallowed, clenching one of his hands in Bucky’s shirt. “I hate it.”

This time, when the floodgate of emotion opened, Tony let himself be washed away. Something in the back of his mind teased him, even now, whispering that the metal arm has nothing to do with it. The Soldier still lives somewhere beneath all that flesh and bone.

 _He hurt you_.

He exhaled, breath shaky with tears and closed his eyes.

The grim melody of blood dripped slow and thick onto the concrete. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what happened. Your kudos and comments are loved! 
> 
> Check out the rest of our Angst/Dark Kinktober 2020 fills in the [Anti-Soulmate Kinktober Collection.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Anti_Soulmate_Kinktober_2020/profile)


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